Well here it is, my second effort at DS fanfic. Much less of a Fraser-Thatcher story than the first one, but that's still there a bit. I am unable to write crimes to solve (maybe someone has one sitting around that they need help on?), so this is mostly dialogue. I actually tried to stay within the bounds of the characters, if you can believe that! This story has little or nothing to do with my first story, "The Dinner," other than the coincidence of the titles. (As far as I know, I will not be writing "The Breakfast"). A one-line comment from Seah inspired me to write this; it was written all in one sitting. It is set at least post-ATQH, if not post-RWoB. Enjoy! (or, should I say, Bon Appetit?)
*****
by Kyla Gurganus (gurganus@emuvax.emich.edu)
Rated: G
Inspector Margaret Thatcher stared at the watch on her wrist. It was only 10:20 in the morning, yet she felt as exhausted as if she had worked a full day already. She would just be glad when this official dinner was over. The way her superiors had made her plan and execute it almost singlehandedly made her wonder if they were testing her, if soon she would be getting more obvious shape- up-or-ship-out messages. Nevertheless, she pressed on. Transportation, accommodations, security, catering, decorations, music, seemingly everything had been checked and double-checked. She'd worn her glasses so much, staring at endless details in tiny print, that her nose felt pinched.
Well, at least she had her staff on the job. Ovitz was to be stationed the entire day where the dinner would be held, supervising the set-up and arrivals. Fraser was finishing up on the bookkeeping and expense reports. Turnbull was...Turnbull was...she couldn't remember where Turnbull was! Only four hours of sleep were not what one needed when one needed a clear head the next day. Oh well, Turnbull can't do too much damage, no matter where I've put him, she thought.
The phone rang. Earlier, she had had all the incoming calls transferred to her office so her underlings would do what she had assigned them to do *and only that.* So who would this be for?
"Hello?" she asked.
"Hello...Benny?"
"This is Inspector Thatcher. Who may I ask is calling?"
"Oh, Inspector, I'm hurt! You don't recognize my lovely voice?"
"I'm sorry, Detective, but we here at the Consulate are busy. We are working. Unless it is a matter of life or death, I would appreciate it if you would call back later."
"Oh, Inspector, it *is* an emergency! I've gotta speak to him! Come on, you can't drive him like a slave! He's gotta get at least one break per day. Consider this his break. It's extremely important! Believe me!"
"I don't believe you, Detective, but here's the deal. This is the one phone call I will take from you today. So say what you've got to say and *don't call back.* Understand?"
"Got it. So put him on."
Meg left her office and went to find Fraser. He was sitting at his desk, which was uncharacteristically covered with receipts. Very unorganized.
"Constable, you have a phone call. From Detective Vecchio. He says it's important."
"Oh. May I..."
"Yes, take it in my office. And Constable..."
"Yes sir?"
"You have two minutes."
As he closed the door to her office, she dropped herself into a nearby chair and closed her eyes, anxious to enjoy two minutes without having to worry about anything.
Fraser picked up the phone. "Hello, Ray! What seems to be the problem?"
"Well, are you coming or not? You promised, you know."
"Yes, Ray, I know I promised you, but that was before this dinner was planned and..."
"Yada, yada, yada. I know, you've got tons of work to do and can't get away. Come on! It's only *an hour*. An hour is such a tiny thing to ask from a friend. And you promised! Don't leave me alone with her!"
"I suppose I could present your situation to Inspector Thatcher and hope that she could let me assist you for an hour."
"Yes, do that. And you can always throw in the fact that I have at least once helped save her life. Guilt works wonders."
"Now Ray..."
Just then, the door opened and Meg stormed in. "Your two minutes are up, Fraser. Hand over the phone." Meekly, he did so.
"I'm sorry, Detective," she began, "but Fraser here has work to do and cannot spend the day lallygagging away on the telephone with you."
"But he promised!"
"What did he promise you?"
"Benny promised me a month ago that he would have lunch with me today as moral support. I need him for an hour. Just an hour. From 11 to 12. That's all. Then I'll safely deliver him back to that Consulate of yours, unharmed. What do ya say?"
"As I said before, Detective, I cannot spare..."
"You can even come too. I'll spring for lunch for all three of you. I'm not made of money, understand, but I can swing lunch for five. Hey, even Canadians have to eat! How can you say no?"
She thought that over. It was true that she was famished. She'd skipped breakfast and come over immediately, prepared to spend all day at the Consulate. She looked up to see her dress for the evening hanging in its dry-cleaning bag, ready for her to change into later. Would an hour lunch hurt? Of course, the answer was yes, a million things could go wrong in an hour, but she was tired. Lunch would be a little relaxation before the total stress of that night.
"OK, Detective, but only if you can ensure me that we will be back here at noon, on the dot, and that you and Fraser will not take off to solve some sort of crime in the middle of the meal."
"You have my word of honor. I'll pick you all up in, let's see, 15 minutes in the Riv. See ya then!"
Before she could give a reply, he had hung up. She replaced the receiver and turned to address Fraser.
"It seems I have been invited along to your lunch. We will be picked up in 15 minutes by Detective Vecchio. Until then, Constable, I am sure you would like to continue with your current project."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir. I know this means a lot to Ray. And I would hate to break a promise to him."
"Dismissed."
Fraser returned to stare at the endless receipts and invoices before him. Luckily, all the payments had been previously arranged. But after an hour of sorting, there were still several he could not make heads or tails of. In fact, there was a pile just for the ones he could not decipher. Dief looked sympathetic; he was going to get lunch for all his hard non-work.
The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally, Fraser's watch indicated it was time to exit the Consulate and wait for Ray to arrive. He rose and knocked on the Inspector's office door.
"Come in."
"Inspector, if we do not hurry, Ray will be incredibly perturbed that we aren't ready to leave. It is a rather stressful day for him..."
"...and for us, Constable. Let me grab my things."
They descended the stairs, only to see Ray leaning on the Riv, looking impatient, and Turnbull, doing his shift, which Meg remembered she had assigned him.
"Wait, I need to speak to Turnbull," Meg said as she turned quickly. "Turnbull, we're headed to lunch for about an hour. Is there anything I can bring you?"
There was no response.
"At ease, Constable. Now what would you like me to bring you for lunch?"
Still no response.
"OK, starve. But I can't spare another man. You'll be on this shift for quite awhile."
Finally, she thought she heard the word "sandwich," but she was at the end of her rope, so she gave up and turned back to the car.
"For a woman so concerned about schedules, you don't seem to be very prompt, Inspector," Ray said slyly as Fraser and Dief got into the back of the Riv, where Frannie was already sitting. Meg got in the passenger seat next to Ray and they were off.
"How are you feeling today, Francaesca? I know Ray has been quite worried about you," Fraser said with his concern written all over his face.
"Oh, Benton, it's so sweet of you to ask! I'm doing great so far. I'm so glad you could make lunch! And that brown uniform looks incredible on you today."
"Francaesca," Fraser began, trying to change the subject, "I am sure you remember my superior officer, Inspector Margaret Thatcher. Ray invited her along."
"Yeah, he said that was the only way he could pry you away. Well, Inspector, I know you're pretty hard on Benton here. But not on my turf, not today."
"Uh...Frannie?" Ray interrupted.
"OK, not on Ray's turf. But this is supposed to be a celebration! So no orders. He's here as my guest. And you are too, so enjoy yourself. Ray's paying, mostly because he knows I can't afford it."
In a few minutes, they drove up in front of a fairly dingy- looking store-front restaurant called "John's Deli." They all piled out of the Riv and into the deli.
"They have great roast beef here, Benny. I order it every time. But it's all good. Ah, here we are." They were to the front counter. The deli was strange because it was a sit-and-order restaurant. Ray went to the front of the group and addressed the man at the cash register. "Hey, Johnny, I told you we'd come in today."
"Ray! Frannie! So good to see you. Take the back table, it's the cleanest. I'll send Annie out to get your orders in a minute. She's taking a break. It hasn't been busy yet."
"That's OK, Johnny. I'm sure it'll take a few minutes. I've got a couple of guys here who've never been before."
They made their way to a circular table in the very back of the deli. At each place was a placemat that also happened to be a menu. Ray and Fraser sat opposite one another, as did Frannie and Meg. Meg instantly began to pour over the menu. Even though Ray had asked for a few minutes, Annie instantly appeared, filling water glasses and whisking out a pad to take the orders.
"So what'll ya have?" she asked.
Ray, as he said, ordered the roast beef. Frannie chose ham and cheese, Fraser went for salami for himself and another roast beef for Dief. Meg chose a club sandwich for herself and a BLT for Turnbull.
When Annie left, the table fell silent. Ray was the first to offer anything in the way of conversation.
"So Inspector, you're looking extremely irritated today. What, have Fraser and I been driving you up the wall again?"
Fraser jumped in. "No, Ray. The Inspector just had an extremely long day yesterday and, coupled with the planning..."
"Thank you, Fraser, but I can speak for myself. Well, yes, I had a killer day yesterday. I tell you, never tell anyone you owe them a favor. Especially not one of those 'anything, anytime' favors. They come back to haunt you. And mine did. Do you know that an old 'friend' of mine chose to call in a five-year-old favor yesterday, *unannounced*? Oh, and he really got me good. I got to the Consulate early yesterday, anticipating that I would need the extra time. But who should drive up at 8 am? A family from Montreal, close friends with Marc, that's the friend of mine. They didn't speak English. Not a word! But they decided that they wanted to see Chicago. They'd taken the train from Montreal the previous day and had made their way to the Consulate somehow. And they wouldn't accept anyone besides me as their tour guide. So for ten hours, I led them around, seeing the sites. And sitting through an entire baseball game! I've never been so bored in all my life!"
"Cubs or White Sox?" Ray asked with a grin.
"I sat for three hours watching the, coincidentally, Montreal Expos play the Chicago Cubs. Oh, the kid in the family, he loved it. Seems he is a huge Expos fan or something."
"I take it you are not a baseball fan, Inspector?"
Before she could answer, Frannie jumped in. "Oh, Inspector, or may I call you Meg?, well, Meg, I know exactly what you mean. Sports! You have to learn to deal with it because that's what men like. If I had a dollar for every baseball, football, and basketball game Ray has dragged me to over the years, I'd be a rich woman. They whine and complain when we say we'd rather go see a show or a movie or go out to dinner or just stay home, but no, sports are always more important. I mean, where does it end?" This ended with a glare at Ray that was also a question.
"OK, I'm guilty as charged. So sue me, I like sports. Just because my sister doesn't, does that mean I'm evil or something? Just because I had to drag her along with me to a few games of pick-up when she was young..."
"What about two months ago, Ray?"
He avoided her gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh yes you do. Three games in one week."
"When you pay for season tickets, Frannie, they have to be used. You can't just *not* use them! They cost big bucks! And I couldn't find a buyer!"
"And there was no one else you could take? Nobody? You have no friends? A man on the street, anybody? No, I had to break all *my* plans just so you could have somebody to listen to you scream and yell at the players and coaches and referees and the people sitting next to us for what seemed like hours on end."
"You know you had no plans! And I was in a bind. I told you it wouldn't happen again. Give it a rest, Frannie!" He turned back to Meg. "So if you're not a baseball fan, Inspector, you must be a hockey fan, at least. I mean, don't they revoke your Canadian citizenship if you're not a rabid hockey fan? So what did you think of the Blackhawks this season? Or do you still follow some hometown team?"
"Actually, I've never cared for the game of hockey in the least. Or any spectator sport for that matter. I'd much rather participate in a sport than watch."
"So what sports would those be?"
"Oh, I've played softball on and off for years. And when I was younger, I took a fancy to archery and fencing."
"Fencing? *Fencing?*" That's all Ray could say before he began laughing. It started as a chuckle but ended up where Ray could barely stay on his seat he was laughing so hard. Meg did not get the joke and was giving Ray an icy look.
"Ray," Fraser said rather emphatically, "I think they may need some help in the kitchen. Shall we?" He then walked over to Ray, took his arm, and walked him through the swinging door to the back of the kitchen.
"Ray, this is not something I want to say, but you must stop. Fencing is a fine sport and not something to laugh about." But Ray couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. Now there were no people around to stop him; he continued to laugh even more.
"What is so funny, Ray?" Fraser asked, having no clue.
"Oh, Benny," Ray got out as he truly tried to stop, "the second she said fencing, I got this image of her taking some kind of sword and vanquishing all her enemies. Then all I could see was some old cartoony dragon not having any more princes to come by and kill it; she'd have chopped off all their heads as they rode by. And on and on. The scenarios got funnier and funnier as they went on..."
Back at the table, Frannie was staring at Meg but saying nothing. Meg was feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
"What?" Meg said, incredibly vexed that anybody would be that rude.
"Don't think you're going to get away with this, Little Miss Mountie Inspector. You know, he's not yours. You don't own him, he just *works* for you. But I'll bet you think you've got him wrapped around your little finger. Ray says you've got some kind of big shindig tonight. What, is he your date? Or did you have to make it seem like he'd be working the whole night, just at your beck and call, just having to be around you?"
"What *are* you talking about?"
"Don't play innocent. I see the way you look at him when you don't think he's looking. I'm a woman after all; I see these things. And it's OK to admit it. I don't think there are many women who can force themselves to *not* be attracted to that beautiful face, that gorgeous bod, those eyes."
"What, Fraser? There's nothing between him and me. Nothing, and I mean nothing."
"Good, and that's the way I'd like to keep it. At least until things are settled between us. He hasn't said yes to me, *yet*, but he hasn't said *no* either. And I don't intend to give up easily. I mean, look at you and me. We're both fairly good looking, if I do say so myself. I have you beaten in the clothes department, but that's to be expected. And I'm no dummy, so intelligence is not an issue. So what is it that you have that could possibly make him want you over me? I mean, nobody can have anything in common with him. He lives like a hermit in that bare apartment with a wolf, for crying out loud! And wears that red uniform all the time. And spends his free time hanging out with my brother, of all people!"
By this point, Meg was sick of this woman across from her. Who was she to lay a claim on Benton Fraser? Without thinking, she spit out the first thing that came to mind.
"Ah, but I have something that you may never have, Ms. Vecchio: his respect. Oh, and I understand this is a special day for you. Let me offer my congratulations," she sneered.
As Frannie let these thoughts settle in her brain, her whole countenance began to change. The shoulders that had been confident as she had confronted Meg were now slumped. Her head was hung low. Her eyes began to mist over. When Ray appeared from the kitchen carrying two of the sandwiches, she was near tears. He sat down and she immediately wrapped two arms around him, sobbing into his jacket.
"Ray, I'm such a loser! No husband, no children, I live at home, I have a dead-end, low-paying job, nothing ever changes..."
As Fraser put the other four sandwiches down, Ray motioned for them to eat.
"Of course, when she says things like that, she doesn't realize she's basically describing my life, too," he chuckled again. "But go ahead and eat. I'll just play good old big brother here. I'm surprised she lasted this long."
"Is this normal, Ray?" Fraser asked as he watched Meg begin to inhale her sandwich.
"Oh, this isn't that bad. Last year, it was much worse. We had barely sat down before she had her head on the table, beating her fist, yelling and cursing that ex-husband of hers. If Johnny weren't an old friend of ours, I'm sure he would've thrown her out. But it doesn't last that long, thank goodness. And it gets him out of her system for a whole year."
Ray was able to eat while Frannie was still attached to him. Meg was done first, obviously ready to return to the Consulate. Dief let them all know when he was finished, too. Fraser obtained a box for Frannie's sandwich (which she had not touched). Ray threw some bills Johnny's way as they passed the register. Johnny quickly yelled a "bye" as the bell on the door signalled they had gone. The five of them then headed back to the Riv, this time with Frannie in the front, still crying away.
On the drive back, Meg looked out the window, thinking about all that Frannie had said to her. Was she really going after the man sitting next to her? Her mind said no, he was just part of the staff assigned to her at her job. Theirs would never go much beyond the bits of sexual tension that existed in so many professional relationships and the kiss that they had shared. That was all. But truly, in her heart of hearts, she knew differently. Even this near-stranger had noticed she couldn't keep her eyes off him. And what about the night to come? It was true he wasn't going to be there as her date or anything, but she had made sure that from her seat at dinner, she would be able to see him with no obstructions. And she'd nearly gone out and bought some perfume! When that had happened, she'd thought she'd nearly lost it. But there was no denying that most visible sign, the color of her dress. He'd obviously seen it hanging there that morning. It was something she couldn't deny. She'd bought it just for that occasion.
The braking of the Riv broke her thoughts. They were back. The three of them climbed out. Meg thanked Ray for the lunch. Fraser made numerous comments to Frannie, making sure she was going to be fine and all and telling Ray to let him know if anything was needed. They watched the Riv speed down the street. Meg handed the sandwich to Turnbull and headed into the Consulate. But before ascending the stairs, she turned to Fraser.
"What was it that made today so special for Detective Vecchio's sister, Constable? I don't get it."
"Well, you see, sir...it is the anniversary of the day her divorce became final. Ray took her to lunch at that establishment on that day and has done so each year since then. I was to come along as moral support during what, as you witnessed, can be a very depressing meal for him."
"Ah, I see." Her relaxed air vanished and she turned back into The Dragon Lady. "Return to your previous task, Constable. We have very little time left and much to do."
She rushed up the stairs and into her office, closing the door emphatically, leaving a stunned Fraser standing at the foot of the steps with a wolf still licking his lips from the lunch.
"Understood," he muttered as he slowly climbed the stairs, not looking forward to continuing the task at hand.
*****
THE END
Kyla Gurganus (gurganus@emuvax.emich.edu) 6/27/96